


Bourbon Lullaby

by LedgerLines



Category: 6teen
Genre: Angst, College!AU, Drug Use, Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LedgerLines/pseuds/LedgerLines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College!AU <br/>Jude hasn't been home in a while, and Wyatt and Jonesy have been worried. One night, in a drunken haze, Jonesy finds himself face to face with Jude, and he can't help but remember even though he's trying to forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bourbon Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the title. This fic may be triggering to anyone who's dealt with drug use/abuse or knows someone who has.

Why I had started drinking, I couldn’t remember. I figured it must have been serious, and tipped back another shot. When Jonesy Garcia drinks, he does not half ass it and let me tell you, I was full steam ahead that night. I sat in the darkened kitchen of the apartment I shared with Wyatt and sometimes Jude. The only light was the dimmed ceiling lamp hovering over the table I sat at. God was it dreary, but it was all us college students could afford. 

I glanced across the kitchen to the microwave clock, trying to read the wavering numbers. It was something like five am as far as I could tell. My stomach churned at the thought of class at nine. I felt myself stand and stumble over to our sink. Emptying my stomach of the little it contained was a relief, and as heaves overtook my body I felt a strange peace wash over my body. Maybe now sleep would come. 

I turned around, and felt a smile creep over my face, Jude was back. Man was he ever pale, I’m not saying the guy was ever bronze or anything, but this was a different pale. A sickly pale. “Jude, what’s up? I haven’t seen you for a while.” My voice sounded soft, the booze had gotten to me more than I thought. 

Jude didn’t say anything, and my smile quavered and died, “Are you okay man?” Nothing. He probably didn’t feel like talking, I figured I’d strike up a conversation. “Do you want a coffee? I’ll probably just stay up the rest of the night anyways.” I poured us two coffees and proceeded to nuke them, “Hey dude,” I started laughing to myself, “remember all the shit we used to get into when we were kids? Man we pulled off some huge stuff.” My laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls, “You man, you were always the first one we disguised.” 

Suddenly a memory flooded over the barriers I tried putting up, “Remember when Caitlin was trying to teach you to read the signals or whatever?” I looked back for affirmation, and he nodded vaguely, “You went all out for that one, cross dressing and everything. That was… that was when we kissed.”   
Jude still hadn’t said anything, and I was fighting my drunken haze to pour milk in our coffees without spilling too much. I didn’t really want to clean any more than necessary. The memory still lingered, and I chuckled, “Yeah man, you were reading the signs and you laid one on me.” The memory filled me with warmth and a weird nostalgia. I felt like crying, and blamed it on the alcohol. 

“There was a lot of that weird gay stuff.” The sentence hung, dead in the air. “Well not like gay is weird… but like. You know what I mean.” My slur was getting worse. I put the coffees down at the table, and motioned for Jude to sit down. 

He wandered over, and under the light. He sunk into the chair across from me and just stared. I will never forget that stare, his eyes were glossy, his pupils were dilated, and the expression I remembered from our teen years was long gone. His mouth hung open, revealing his yellowed teeth peeking out from behind raw, chapped lips. Straw blonde hair jutted out from under the toque he’d owned since we worked at the mall those many years ago, nearly blending in with the papery tones his complexion had now taken on. 

“Dude,” I was trying to be as serious as I could, this situation was starting to scare me, “Where have you been? Wyatt and I have been worried. You’re not,” I dropped my voice, scared Wyatt might have been woken by my earlier laughter, “You’re not using again are you?” 

My question turned to dust the moment it hit his ear, “Jude, seriously. I need… we need you. We all do, and I think you still need us too. We can totally help you out of this.” Jaw slack, his eyes wandered, searching my features for something unknown. I could feel anger fueled by the haze of alcohol bubble from within me, “Jude you have to stop this bullshit. This has been happening since high school. It started out with weed, but I know you’re doing worse. I’ve seen your razor blades in the bathroom and a couple months ago I found a rolled up bill? Dude what are you doing to yourself? And that sore on your wrist? How long has it been there?”   
I was boiling at this point, I wobbled over to his side of the table, and saw the sore I’d noticed a few days ago. It had begun to fester, and another joined it, ruby against his ashen skin. I felt dizzy, and crouched down before my best friend, “Jude, look at yourself.” 

Instead he looked at me, and I thought I saw an actual emotion flicker for a moment. It was a weak emotion, something close to caring, but whatever the look was, it was rooted in some form of love. It’s hard to know if I’d imagined it or not. My heart skipped a beat at the new expression, but the feeling was fleeting and vacancy quickly took its place. I sighed and stood again, wondering what to do with the husk that was once my Jude. 

“Okay man whatever, you don’t want to talk? Fine, just go to bed we’ll talk with Wyatt in the morning.” He almost looked hurt by the blade of my tone. I softened my expression and stuck out my fist. 

A shadow of his old smile weakly washed over his features and he whispered, “Dude.” Sticking out his hand we fist bumped.

“Jude.” I chuckled, and he followed my laughter with his own weakened chortle. “See you in the morning man.” He nodded and I left him standing in the kitchen, alone. 

 

I skipped my morning class, and got up at eleven. Wyatt was already sitting at the table, drinking a coffee. He looked worn down, even more so than usual, “Hey man, what was with the cup you left out last night?” 

I felt my brow furrow, a sudden numb swept over my body. Something was very wrong here, Wyatt's face was evidence enough of that. “Well, Jude showed up at like five am and he was all wacked out so I got him a coffee.” 

Wyatt’s expression changed, his eyes became the size of moons, and his jaw must have nearly unhinged. His skin grew pale, and I felt a chill run up my spine as he rasped, “Jude did what now? Jonesy, are you sure? You were pretty hammered last night.” 

I nodded slowly, my stomach felt cold and heavy, “Why wouldn’t I be? I wasn’t that drunk man.”   
Wyatt put the coffee down and folded his hands, “Jonesy, they found Jude’s body two days ago.” I trudged to the sink, but bile was all that came up. “He… he died of an overdose. Don’t you remember? We went to identify him yesterday.” 

I shook my head, feeling thoughts pressing down all around me. Carefully I sunk to the ground and wrapped my arms around my knees, resting my head on them. I’m not sure how long I stayed like that, at what point Wyatt came to sit with me, at what point he left, and when I stopped and started crying, but that night no amount of vodka could erase my pain and no bourbon lullabies could lure away the memory of Jude’s last visit.


End file.
